


Troubleshooting

by cupcake4mafia



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Humor, M/M, Nino tries to be a shut-in in Hawaii, Ohno doesn't do technology, and silly, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcake4mafia/pseuds/cupcake4mafia
Summary: (NinoEx 2016) Nino is lured to his company’s new satellite office in Honolulu with the promise of running his own network. Unfortunately, working alone means Nino also has to take tech support calls from the Honolulu team’s clueless manager.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a crazy few months and I forgot to post this here! (please enjoy my thinly-veiled bitching about computer "problems" I've actually helped people with at my own office over the years...)

When Jun first asked Nino to join the Honolulu team, Nino laughed it off.

“Right, because I love being in the sun and meeting new people.”

Jun insisted that he was serious. “You’re skilled, you’re reliable, you speak English-”

“I do not! Why does everyone keep saying that?” Nino whined.

“Everyone saw you talking with Peter at the New Year party.”

“I bullshitted him for five minutes with movie quotes and now I speak English?”

“Let’s put it this way: you have communication skills. Which is more than I can say for the rest of your godforsaken department.”

“It’s IT, what do you expect?”

“A horrible windowless bunker full of hopeless nerds,” Jun answered, with a visible shudder. “Consider, though, having _your own_ horrible bunker _all to yourself_.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Your own office, your own server, your own network. All you.”

“You mean...working alone?” Nino asked, daring to dream.

“We’re looking at ten workstations in this branch, tops. It doesn’t make sense to bring more than one IT person.”

Nino groaned helplessly.

“I thought that might interest you,” Jun said, grinning wickedly. “One more thing: Aiba and Toma are also on the team.”

The three people on the floor that Nino could stand to be around, setting up his own network, having a room with four walls - never again looking over his shoulder for his supervisor to catch him on gaming forums...

 _Hell, I could even **play** games,_  he thought, giddy.

“Is there a pay raise?” he finally remembered to ask.

“The Company is offering to relocate you to _Hawaii,_ ” Jun reminded him.

“Yeah, but I don’t care about that part.”

 

* * *

 

The Company cared. It seemed no one quite had the power to put the brakes on Kitagawa “Johnny” Hiromu’s increasingly eccentric behavior, but upper management was at least trying to find ways to indulge the CEO’s Great New Ideas without going bankrupt. So, even though Nino’s travel expenses were comped and his L-1 visa all taken care of - he still ended up having to share an apartment with Aiba.

Nino whined about this at length to Jun - but mostly because it was funny watching Jun struggle with the fact that he technically _had to_ listen to Nino’s whining, now that "human resources" had been added to Jun's responsibilities as office manager. Deep down, Nino didn’t really mind sharing what Americans considered a “tiny” two-bedroom place with a friend who had a habit of cooking for him.

There was also the job of outfitting the office and setting up the network - most of which he got to do from his own private “horrible bunker,” just as Jun had promised. Aiba and Toma were along for the ride - having been sent ahead of the rest of personnel to start meeting up with local clients and trying to make some marketing contacts - and they became much more involved in setting up the office than Jun or Nino had expected. This was especially fortunate for Nino, since the two of them were much better at feigning interest in things like Jun’s struggle to choose between various shades of gray cubicle dividers.

Nino learned from Aiba on their walks home that he and Toma were having an obscenely good time at their client “meetings” - surfing lessons, barbecue parties on highrise condominium rooftops, trips around the island to eat from what were apparently Very Important Food Trucks. Aiba suspected things would become more formal once he and Toma weren’t “new in town,” but he still felt guilty thinking about his coworkers back in Tokyo. Nino told Aiba to lighten up - which is something he never really thought he’d have to do.

Hawaii didn’t really do for Nino what it seemed to be doing for everyone else. The second of his two trips to the beach with Aiba ended with dehydration, sunburn, and both of his legs covered in jellyfish stings. Still, Nino was enjoying himself in his own way. If his department in the Tokyo office hadn’t been full of exactly the kind of painfully unpleasant people Jun thought it was, Nino might have also felt guilty about his good luck. When he wasn’t setting up equipment or playing with the network, he was surfing the internet free of surveillance and joining Aiba and Toma in stupid office olympic trials - like desk chair racing - that Jun couldn’t even pretend to disapprove of. He was also eating hamburgers almost every day (which quickly resulted in those extra kilograms that his sister had gleefully warned him of before he left for America).

Nino dreaded the arrival of the rest of the staff, especially the chief and assistant operations managers. There were barely going to be enough people in their one-floor rental space for one person to manage - why did Tokyo have to send two? The photos that were circulated back when the team was first announced did nothing to improve Nino’s outlook. Yeah, Ohno Satoshi and Sakurai Sho were young and good-looking and had perfect hair, but it was the same with almost everyone Nino worked with these days. Their CEO had done more damage to the company in recent years than just greenlighting outrageous projects like opening a satellite office in Honolulu; he had also gone on a “restructuring” spree, promoting young executives to leadership positions over their more experienced seniors to improve the company’s “millennial reach” - or whatever bullshit buzzword “Johnny-san” was into that week. If anything, the fact that these redundant managers were young and good-looking would probably mean that they were anxious to flex their power.

Nino was the head of his department, now. In fact, he _was_ his department. Technically, Aiba and Toma were the only ones who should to have to walk on eggshells when the managers arrived. Of course, Nino knew the reality was that all administrative staff were basically the same in management’s eyes. So, he fortified his bunker - stacking empty equipment boxes to make it harder to squeeze in to where his small desk sat, littering that small desk with peripherals and networking cables that looked important and possibly dangerous to touch - and hoped for the best.

Then their CEO died.

Nino woke up to his phone chiming at 2 AM with a message from Jun: _Johnny had a heart attack._ The next morning they gathered in their still half-empty waiting room to hear the news that the CEO had passed and that his niece - “Julie” - would be taking over.

Nino was sure this would be the end of their wild vacation. Everyone knew that Julie was much more level-headed than her uncle, and the rumors about the crazy ideas she had talked him _down_ from were impressive. He couldn’t imagine that she would have any faith in this pet project. He could tell by the dazed, dreamlike way the others continued through the motions of work that they felt the same. Any second, that other shoe was going to drop.

Only, it didn’t. The rest of the administrative staff arrived. Jun held interviews for a receptionist and hired a Hawaiian girl named Crystal (who spoke perfect Japanese but still got them all stammering whenever they had to talk to her). Before Nino knew it, Jun and Crystal were heading to the airport with two carefully selected lei to greet their managers.

So, now, they all have to pretend to be at work.

 

* * *

 

Nino makes it a full week past the release of Underwitness before he breaks down and installs the game on his work computer. _Seconds_ after the title screen loads, his phone rings.

Divine retribution, he thinks. _Ohno Satoshi, Chief Operations Manager,_ his caller ID tells him.

Nino hits speakerphone with his free hand, his cursor still lingering over the game’s menu options.

“IT Department, Ninomiya Kazunari.”

“Sorry to bother you,” Ohno Satoshi mumbles, sounding sincerely apologetic. “But I’m having a problem with an email attachment.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nino answers, well-rehearsed. “Let me open a ticket for you, and I’ll let you know as soon as someone is available to take a look.”

“Okay, great, thank you.”

Relieved, Nino opens up the character creator. Halfway through picking a hair color for his sniper, he remembers that he’s not in Tokyo anymore. There is no one else “available to take a look.” There’s just him.

 _This is what you wanted!_ he scolds himself as he shuts down the game and tucks in his shirt. _Your own network, all to yourself. Here’s what comes with it._

It is a little funny, at least, that Ohno apparently believes wholeheartedly that Nino could have an assistant tucked away somewhere in the utility closet that doubles as their server room. The awkward mourning period that the office is observing in the wake of the CEO’s death has postponed any kind of welcoming party, so Nino's been able to avoid meeting their new managers. He’s only heard from Aiba that Sakurai seems “smart” and Ohno seems “nice.” Nino feels like “nice” is a weird description for an operations manager, and now he’s starting to wonder if Ohno might be “nice” in the same way Aiba is - the way that sometimes ends with Nino taking apart half of the copy machine to free Aiba’s shirt cuff from a print spooler.

A cheerful “Hello!” interrupts Nino’s thoughts as he passes by the reception desk. Jun insists that Crystal’s endless cycle of greetings throughout the day is typical for American offices and not a troubling sign of memory loss, so Nino smiles and nods back.

He finds Ohno’s door propped open with a file box - one of many that were unnecessarily flown from Tokyo. Nino hasn’t been in the corner office since he set up its workstation, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see that a garish mounted fish is now hanging on the wall alongside the muted watercolor paintings Jun carefully selected for the room after weeks of deliberation.

“Manager, excuse me. Is now a good time?”

Ohno jumps, wide-eyed, and pockets the iPhone he was fiddling with, all with the guilty look of a man clearly unaccustomed to being in charge.

“Yes, of course,” he answers, gesturing for Nino to come in. “Please, don’t call me ‘manager,’ though.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It still sounds strange, kind of like a joke,” Ohno says, smiling apologetically. “Ohno is fine, please.”

This might be one of those office politics things where Nino is supposed to insist on saying “manager,” but, honestly, Nino has never been a big fan of titles and honorifics.

“Ohno, then,” he agrees. “Would you like me to look at that attachment?”

Immediately, Ohno stands up and gestures for Nino to sit in his seat. Nino is relieved - it takes so much longer to fix things when people refuse to let him drive.

“Alright, what kind of file do we have...” he wonders aloud, resisting the urge to just lie back and take a nap in the obscenely plush chair Jun picked for this office.

The attachment is a PDF from someone in accounting back in Tokyo. Nino clicks on it and watches it flash and disappear. He looks down at the taskbar and sees ten copies of the file are already open.

“Ah, I see. Your default setting for email attachments is ‘open in full-screen view,’” Nino explains.

 _You’re an idiot who can’t look at the bottom of his screen to find an open file,_ he doesn’t say.

“It was there the whole time?” Ohno asks, chuckling weakly. “Wow, I feel stupid.”

“You shouldn’t,” Nino lies, keeping his eyes on the screen. “A lot of people get confused thanks to that setting. Here, I’ll fix it for you now.”

“Alright, well, thank you, Ninomiya.”

“My pleasure,” Nino answers, standing.

Ohno just keeps standing, so Nino side-steps out of his way. He pauses in the door and watches Ohno watch his computer screen, wary.

“Is there anything else?” he asks.

“Sorry, no,” Ohno says, flashing a smile. “Just. Mondays.”

“It’s Friday,” Nino corrects him, automatically.

“Yes. Right. It is, isn’t it?”

Another excellent pick by their CEO, Nino thinks, hiding an amused grin as he nods a polite goodbye.

As he walks past reception, mere minutes after the last time, Crystal at least has the decency to shorten her hello to a “hey.”

So there’s that.

 

* * *

 

The weekend that follows is a blur of battling cyborgs and lizardmen and learning useful phrases such as “EAT A BAG OF DICKS” from his new friends on the American Underwitness servers. By the time Ohno calls Nino for help first thing on Monday morning, Nino has already forgotten exactly what stupid thing he helped him with before.

Even if Nino did remember, he probably wouldn’t be prepared for Ohno telling him in panicked whispers that there aren’t any documents in his My Documents folder.

“Well, this is a new computer,” Nino reminds him, as gently as possible.

“So my documents are still on the computer back in Tokyo?”

Nino isn’t fast enough to stop the “HUH?” that comes out of his mouth.

“HUH?” Ohno repeats back, eyes wide.

Ohno looks so genuinely afraid that he might have to have his files physically moved to America that Nino has to step himself back a bit.

“Okay, no,” Nino tells him, firm. “Your files aren’t back in Tokyo.”

“Oh good,” Ohno breathes, sinking back in his chair.

“Your files were transferred here over the VPN. I copied them to our local network and I put a shortcut on your desktop so you could find them on the A: drive.”

“Find them...where?”

“Here,” Nino says, reaching for Ohno’s mouse.

Their fingers touch and they both jump. Apparently “here” wasn’t enough warning for Ohno. Nino doesn’t have much of an excuse, though.

Well, you are running on three hours of sleep and half a cup of coffee, he tells himself.

“Ohno Satoshi’s Folder,” Nino reads aloud as he points out the shortcut. “Understand?”

Nino knows it’s dangerous to be that condescending, but the charm of Ohno’s “niceness” can’t quite overcome the shitty mood brought on by sleep deprivation.

“Okay, but when I go to My Documents from the start menu-”

“That points to the documents that are stored in _this_ computer. Your documents don’t live in your desktop anymore. They live in the server - in my office.”

“I see,” Ohno nods, looking like he might actually understand Nino’s simplified explanation.

“Is there something in particular I can help you find?”

“No, that’s okay, I know how to get there now. Sorry this was such a waste of time.”

“Not at all,” Nino argues politely.

“So the _‘server,’_ ” Ohno says, leaning against the arm of his chair and furrowing his brow in a thoughtful way. “Is that something like-” he hesitates and drops his voice to an almost-whisper: “The _‘Cloud?’_ ”

 _There are not enough hours in the day for me to help this man_ , Nino thinks.

“Kind of,” he answers, with a strained smile.

 

* * *

 

“Maybe he’s just looking for excuses to take breaks,” Aiba suggests one day during lunch.

He's brought takeout for two, so Nino doesn't object as he tests the decoy delivery boxes for sturdiness before picking one to use as a stool.

“Well, that’s fine for him, but how am I supposed to slack off?” Nino grumbles, his mouth half-full of rice.

Aiba cranes his neck around to try and look at Nino’s screen. “Are you playing that game here, too?”

“Of course not,” Nino answers, as he logs in. “That would be a waste of Company bandwidth.”

“Oh my God, I’ve _got_ it,” Aiba interrupts, pointing with his chopsticks. “He likes you!”

Nino snorts. He sits back and waits for his map to load as Aiba gets up and paces the narrow open space of the bunker’s floor.

“That has to be it! I mean, he has an assistant right in the hall there to help him with this stuff, doesn’t he? Why would he call IT just to get his email open?”

“Because people think that’s all I’m here for,” Nino tells Aiba, sighing at the wrongness of it all while his level 42 sniper checks her guild storage for anything good that might have been added this morning.

“Yeah, but, the stuff you told me - like, not knowing what a file extension is? Even _I’m_ not that bad. I think it’s an act. He wants to seduce you.”

“Well, this is the worst seduction I’ve ever experienced.”

“I think you should consider it.”

“Consider what?”

“Being seduced.”

Nino looks up at Aiba, raising his eyebrows more than he ever thought possible - but Aiba does tend to bring that out in him. “Do I really seem like that kind of girl to you?”

“I’m just saying! He’s a catch, isn’t he? Upper management, handsome - I mean, I think so... He is, right?”

“He’s not bad,” Nino concedes, shrugging. “But let’s be real - I could never be happy with a man who uses Yahoo to search for Google.”

 

* * *

 

A call from Ohno interrupts Nino during an assault mission. For a brief moment, Nino fantasizes about not answering. Of course he does answer, and he braves the possibility of Crystal's third "hello" of the day to walk back to Ohno’s office.

Sakurai Sho is in the hallway (still wearing a jacket and tie, Nino notes, happy to see he’s still winning the “when will Sakurai Sho roll up his sleeves” pool) handing some documents over the wall of Chinen’s cubicle. Nino continues their fantastic relationship of nodding politely and never speaking to each other. Sakurai seems like he does want to speak about something, though, but he turns back to Chinen instead.

“I’m sorry,” Ohno says as he opens his door and ushers Nino in. “I know you must be sick of me.”

Nino knows that Ohno started rolling his sleeves up on day three. He knows this because he’s been in Ohno’s office almost damn every day since his arrival to teach him How to Computer.

“I’m here to help,” Nino insists, mentally running through his sniper’s inventory and what she might need for the next mission (Extraction from Cyborg Base).

Ohno points to his screen and Nino is distracted from his thoughts, briefly, by Ohno’s surprisingly elegant hands and carefully filed fingernails.

“How do I get this line to go away?” Ohno asks.

Finally Nino registers that Ohno is pointing to a range in some kind of budget spreadsheet.

“Well, that’s a cell border,” Nino says, trying to stay level - he knows lots of people work in Excel without ever creating their own sheets so he wants to give Ohno the benefit of the doubt. “You’re going to want to select all these cells and then go up here to the Formatting section-”

“Cells?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s a cell again?”

_For. Fuck’s. Sake._

“These are cells,” Nino says, gesturing to, well, _everything_. “All these boxes, here. They’re called cells. That’s why the program is called Ex _cel_.”

“Oh!” Ohno says, face brightening like he’s just learned a Fun Fact.

“Yeah,” Nino says, gritting his teeth to keep his frustration firmly in check.

Ohno is still focused on the screen, fortunately.

“I always just called them ‘boxes,’” he admits, slightly sheepish.

 _Maybe Aiba is on to something,_ Nino wonders, hysterically.

“So...this is a cell line.”

“Cell border,” Nino corrects. “You can change it using this tool up here.”

Ohno thanks him and apologizes for being so dumb and damn if that isn’t making it hard to hate this guy. Most people start to get defensive about their computer skills at this point - and probably rightly so, Nino’s not doing a very good job at hiding how ridiculous this all is.

“I guess I have to get back to it,” Ohno says, hunching over a little and actually looking his age for a second.

“I could pretend something’s wrong with it if you want to take a break,” Nino hears himself offer, gesturing to the computer.

Ohno smiles up at him, a tired smile but a genuine one - wrinkling around the eyes.

“No, I have to take care of this,” he sighs.

He opens a drawer in his desk and reaches in. Nino freezes, suddenly unable to look away. It’s none of his business, he knows, but he can’t help but be afraid that-

 _Of course,_ he thinks, resigned, as Ohno pulls out a printer calculator that looks roughly as old as Nino. Apparently unbothered by Nino’s presence, Ohno starts tapping away, the horrible loud clacking and whirring noises of the ancient machine filling the room.

“What are you _doing?!_ ”

Ohno turns, slowly, and Nino bites his cheek to hide his shock at his own outburst. Ohno doesn’t look annoyed, though - just surprised.

“I’m adding up these expenses,” Ohno answers, his words trailing up like a question.

“Do you really need a calculator for that?” Nino asks, hoping that maybe Ohno is just weird and superstitious and not _that clueless_.

Ohno looks down at where his fingers are hovering over the calculator and then back up at Nino, eyes still wide and confused.

“I’ve never been very good at doing math in my head-” he starts, apologetic.

“I mean Excel does the math for you,” Nino interrupts, unable to bear it any longer. “That’s the whole- I mean- It uses formulas to-”

“There’s a calculator in the program?” Ohno asks, looking excited.

“Not a calculator- It’s-”

 _Let it **go** ,_ Nino tries to tell himself. _He can use an abacus for all it matters to you._

Somehow, Nino can’t let it go.

“Let me show you something.”

Nino bats Ohno’s hand away from his mouse, selects all the data in the column and hits autosum.

Ohno sits up straight in surprise. “Wow!”

“Yeah.”

“Damn, I’ve really been wasting a lot of time.”

“No shit.”

Nino doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud until he meets eyes with Ohno and finds his eyebrows raised, his mouth open in small round “Oh?”

“So that, uh, did not come out how I-” Nino stops short when he realizes Ohno is _smiling_.

“It’s okay,” Ohno says. “I’m really fucking tired of talking like that all day.”

Nino hesitates, unsure of Ohno’s sincerity. He’s usually great at reading people, that’s why Jun brought him here in the first place, but he feels like he still doesn’t quite _get_ something about this guy.

“Seriously.” Ohno leans forward and props an elbow on his desk, resting his chin in his hand and staring at his computer screen. His smile fades. “Everyone keeps calling me Manager no matter what I say. It’s always a relief to talk to you.”

Nino has even less of an idea how to respond to _that._ Worse, he can feel his face turning red. Ohno isn’t looking at him, but he still turns his head to cringe. Blushing - Aiba would be so happy.

Ohno’s phone rings. The caller ID reads: _Kitagawa Hiromu, CEO;_ no one has changed the name on his old line over to Julie’s yet.

“Sorry,” Ohno says.

“No problem,” Nino answers.

He hurries to the safety of his bunker without looking back.

 

* * *

 

Jun calls Nino and asks him to stop by his office when he’s free. Nino puts this off for a respectable amount of time, so by the time he complies he walks in on Aiba getting scolded.

“Good timing,” Jun says. “Help me talk to Aiba about his hair.”

“It has gotten lighter in the sun, hasn’t it?” Nino comments, as though he’s just now noticed Aiba’s hair is about two shades shy of orange.

Aiba beams back at him.

“Why do I bother?” Jun wonders aloud. “Fine, then. Aiba, help me talk to Nino about the outing.”

“Outing?” Nino repeats, grimacing.

“I sent you a calendar invite on Monday for this office outing tonight.”

Nino vaguely remembers deleting something like that.

“Aw, he’s coming,” Aiba insists.

Nino wrinkles his nose. “You know, I’ve read that Americans actually think it’s embarrassing to go drinking with their coworkers.”

“Fascinating. I don’t care. Everyone is going to this outing.”

“Ohhh, Crystal too?” Aiba asks, excited.

“ _Aiba,_ ” Jun groans, resting his forehead in his hand.

“What? I want to practice my English."

“Hire a tutor!” Jun snaps. “Alright, out. Nino, you stay.”

Nino sits in the chair across from Jun’s desk as Aiba scurries out. He waits while Jun takes a long sip of coffee. He wonders if he’ll ever get sick of watching Jun hate his HR duties.

“I don’t have to give you The Crystal Talk, do I?” Jun asks.

“What’s that talk about?”

“About how she is the only woman in our _office_ , not the only woman on the _island_.”

“Of course not,” Nino scoffs. “I am nothing if not professional.”

“Well, I was thinking of the other reason,” Jun responds, taking another convenient sip of coffee.

Nino blinks, surprised. It’s been almost a year since that night back in Tokyo when Nino and Jun awkwardly waved hello to each other from across a crowded gay bar. They’ve never once discussed it.

“That’s very bold of you,” Nino teases. “Very American.”

Jun shrugs but his smile seems a little smug.

“And if that’s your reason, then you should probably give me half of the talk,” Nino warns. “I’ll take the first half, about how she’s the only woman in the office.”

“Just..." Jun sighs, defeated. "Just be there. Okay? If you come this _one_ time, I’ll give you a free pass for the next work outing.”

It’s a good offer. Too good, really.

Nino thinks back to Ohno’s phone call from Julie and lowers his voice a little before asking: “Are we going to get some bad news?”

“No, nothing like that. Honestly? I think the Operations Manager really likes you, so I’m hoping you can get him to loosen up a little.”

Nino keeps his face straight as Jun speaks. Jun doesn't say “like” in the same way Aiba said it; he’s not _implying_ anything. Still, Nino’s not sure how he feels about Jun keeping tabs on his frequent tech support visits, or that Jun also thinks they mean something other than Ohno barely being able to function in this decade.

“Two free passes,” Nino suggests.

“One free pass and one free drink tonight.”

Nino opens his mouth to make a joke about Jun already having missed his chance to buy him a drink, but he thinks better of it and asks about dress code instead.

 

* * *

 

The outing is “casual dress,” which throws the office pool completely off-balance; the consensus in the admin staff group LINE chat is that _no one_ knows how to interpret Sakurai Sho’s ¾-sleeve shirt (or where such shirts are sold in men's sizes). Nino is much more amused by Ohno’s board shorts and rubber flip-flops. The surf shop hoodie Ohno’s wearing looks new, at least, but he still seems less like a supervisor on a night out with his staff and more like a local who has wandered into a group of Japanese tourists.

Nino really wasn’t interested in going anywhere near Waikiki, but he has to admit the spot that Jun has reserved is nice: a table for ten in an outdoor dining area that looks out on the tiny strip of sand that qualifies as “Waikiki beach.” The shore is littered with people, naturally, but at night it’s a little easier to overlook them. It’s kind of pretty in its own way, Nino thinks, with the city lights reflecting on the ocean, but it could just be that the ukelele music piping through the restaurant’s speakers is getting to him.

Nino orders a hamburger and a beer and relaxes back in his spot between Aiba and Arioka, listening to the newcomers share their Hawaii stories. Everyone makes at least a token attempt to speak some English with Crystal - Aiba most memorably, talking about a “VERY DANGER” experience he had while out surfing with a client. Aiba’s pantomime of his struggle to make it back to shore without stepping on live coral (something they were all warned about before visiting the beach) ends with him very narrowly avoiding smacking their waitress in the face. His horrified “SORRY SORRY SUPER SO SORRY!” sends them all into hysterics.

It’s not that strange, really, that Nino is the only one who notices Ohno slip away. It’s not weird to Nino that Ohno would slip away, either. It’s not _proper_ , but it’s not hard to understand, considering the slow fade of Ohno’s smile with each instance of “Manager, you first” and “Manager, what do you think?”

Not that Nino’s been watching Ohno throughout dinner or anything.

Okay, he has been.

Nino’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks it as Crystal has the group enthralled with the very casual way she’s said “This one time, my friends and I were skinny dipping…”

 _Where did Ohno go?_ Jun asks, in a private chat.

Nino sends back a sticker of a confused bear and follows it with a _How would I know?_

Across the table, Jun rolls his eyes and types harder.

_Help me find him._

Well, if Jun wants to give Nino an excuse to wander off, too, then he’ll take it.

He mumbles a “pardon me” and leaves the table to casually snoop around the restaurant, checking the bathrooms. No Ohno.

 _Damn_ , Nino thinks. _That’s bold._

He wonders again about Ohno’s phone call with Julie and if there might be some bad news coming up for them after all. Maybe that’s why Ohno hasn’t really connected much with the staff; he’s dreading telling everyone that they have to pack up and go home.

Nino heads out into the crowded Waikiki strip, feeling the buzz of his beers more acutely now that he’s walking. The idea that he might find Ohno in this crowd is silly, especially if Ohno is trying to get lost.

Nino’s not entirely sure if he’s following Jun’s orders or just making his own early exit. It’s not that Nino isn’t having a good time, it’s just not quite his scene. With just a few people it’s easier to read the atmosphere and know the right thing to say. In a crowd, Nino finds himself staying silent until he’s not sure if he’s really there anymore.

 _Well you knew I was a shut-in when you brought me here,_ Nino imagines telling an angry Jun on Monday.

Then Ohno ruins that plan by letting Nino almost walk right into him outside of an ABC Store. He’s standing stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk, reading intently from a stack of tourism pamphlets in his hand.

“Shooting range or strip club?” Nino asks.

Ohno looks up, bug-eyed. Immediately, his expression softens into a smile.

“Deep-sea fishing,” he says, holding the brochure up so Nino can see.

“Oh, yeah, you have that big fish in your office.”

“It’s fake,” Ohno says, his eyes focusing somewhere in the space beyond Nino. “I guess I should head back there, huh?”

“You missed a good public nudity story, but...” Nino shrugs. “Do what you want. You’re the manager, right?”

“Right,” Ohno agrees, nodding slowly.

With that, he starts walking without even a look over his shoulder. Nino follows, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He’s not sure why he had to bring up Ohno’s position. Maybe he’s a little annoyed at Ohno’s “woe is me, I’m upper management” attitude. Still, something is obviously genuinely bothering the guy.

A block away from the restaurant, Ohno turns down an alley and starts walking towards the beach. Nino smiles at the change of course and makes no objection. He follows Ohno away from the strip and out towards the shore. It’s late, sure, but this patch of beach still seems practically _abandoned_ by Waikiki standards. Looking around, Nino can tell they’re in a spot that a hotel is trying to pretend they own.

Ohno stares out at the ocean and Nino tries not to stare at Ohno. He listens to the muffled tourism sounds behind them - little bursts of laughter and still more ukelele music fading in and out.

“Does this seem like a good place to say something dramatic?” Ohno asks, as if he’s looking for a good place to eat lunch.

“If it’s about your phone call with Julie I already kind of guessed that.”

“What? No."

Nino looks back at Ohno, but Ohno’s focused on the ocean, gazing out with the same confused but resigned expression that Nino’s seen him give to his computer screen many times.

“It’s about my job,” Ohno says. “About the CEO, he-”

Ohno shakes his head and sits down in the sand, cross-legged. Nino joins him, too buzzed to feel silly about it.

“I wasn’t supposed to be the head manager," Ohno continues. "I wasn't supposed to be a manager at all. Sho was the one.”

“Sakurai? That kind of-”

“Makes sense. I know. I fucked it up, though. We were both seated at Johnny’s table at the New Year party. I don’t even know why I was there I just...was. Johnny was talking about the Hawaii office and who should go and I’d been drinking too much and I said that _I_ should go.”

Nino can’t help but snort at that. Ohno flashes a strained, embarrassed smile.

“I don’t remember much of it, but apparently I was really making a case for myself. All of a sudden, Johnny said that Sho and I should janken for it.”

“ _Janken?_ ”

“Yeah. I didn’t- I mean, he’s the CEO, right? I guess I wasn’t drunk enough to say _no._ So, I janken with Sho and I win and then Johnny says I’m going to Hawaii.”

“Oh _shit_ ,” Nino breathes, his face going hot with second-hand embarrassment.

“I thought it was a joke. It had to be, right? Then I came back to work after the weekend and there were all these gifts on my desk. Like, really nice fountain pens and shit… I didn’t want to be in charge of anything. I really didn’t.”

The two of them sit in silence after Ohno’s confession, staring out at the ocean. Nino feels like he should say some kind of encouraging words, but he can’t think of any. Saying nothing at all feels uncomfortable, though.

“What about Hawaii?” he asks, allowing himself a sideways glance at Ohno.

Ohno straightens his back a little. “Huh?”

“You didn’t want to be in charge. Did you really want to come to Hawaii, though?”

“Of course,” Ohno says, brow furrowed like Nino’s asked him a strange question.

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” Ohno repeats.

Ohno chuckles. It’s the first time Nino’s heard him direct a laugh at someone other than himself.

“Is it the fishing thing?” Nino guesses.

“It’s _Hawaii!_ ” Ohno says, gesturing out towards the ocean.

Nino looks out, thoughtful.

“It is kind of nice, at night, I guess.”

“You guess.”

“What?” Nino snaps. “I don’t get out here much.”

“I get out here every day," Ohno says, almost reverent in his tone. "I mean, not this spot, but somewhere I can put my feet in the ocean.”

“Wow. Okay. I’ve been to the beach I think three times since I came...”

Ohno grabs Nino’s arm way harder than he needs to. Well, really, Nino thinks, there’s no reason for Ohno to grab him at all.

“You’re joking,” Ohno says, voice low and serious, searching Nino’s face like he’s really concerned about something.

“What? Do I have to go to the beach all the time because I live in Hawaii?”

“YES!” Ohno says, earnestly. “That’s the whole- I mean- It’s _Hawaii!_ ”

Nino looks back over his shoulder at a couple sitting on a towel not too far from them, but they don’t seem to be paying any attention to the small Japanese man yelling about Hawaii.

“I don’t do great in the sun,” Nino explains, annoyed with himself for giving any explanation at all. “Even when I played baseball in school I never tanned, I just burned up. It’s not my thing.”

“You should at least go at night, then,” Ohno insists.

“And do what?” Nino humors him.

“Barbecue, drink, just sit out here, even.”

Ohno lists these things more like he’s brainstorming than giving advice.

He also still has his hand locked around Nino’s arm.

Normally, Nino would tuck these away as Things to Consider Later, but after the potentially damning office gossip Ohno has just dumped on him, he feels too confident not to ask: “Is that a suggestion or an invitation?”

“Yes,” Ohno answers immediately.

“That’s not-” Nino laughs, unable to finish.

“I mean the second one. The- oh, wow.” Ohno lets go of Nino’s arm. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m considering your invitation.”

“Yeah?” Ohno asks, his face all earnest again.

Suddenly Nino knows that this is exactly what’s been bothering him about Ohno all along: watching such a painfully honest person try to cover up a secret.

 _Maybe more than one secret,_ Nino thinks, appreciating how close Ohno has stayed even after letting go of his arm.

Nino glances over to the nearby couple again; they’re watching something on a phone together. He knows he hasn’t had enough to drink to excuse this, but he leans forward towards Ohno anyway.

Caught off guard, Ohno leans back, then grabs Nino to keep from falling - or something like that. It’s all a little fuzzy to Nino except for the part where his hands are in the sand and Ohno’s hands are on his waist. Ohno looks up at him, frozen, but now with more anticipation in his eyes than surprise. His tan skin is almost golden in the soft light from the strip behind them, and Nino can just barely hear that couple giggling over the distant break of waves. The beach at night might be more than just kind of nice.

“Aiba was right,” Nino realizes aloud, chuckling. “No one is that fucking clueless about Windows.”

“Windows?” Ohno repeats, licking his lips.

Nino rolls his eyes and closes the space between them.

Of all the ways Nino thought this night might have ended, “sprawled out on the beach and making out with a guy who is only _technically_ not his boss” was pretty far down the list. Here he is, though, enjoying how quickly Ohno's nerves give way to making quiet little pleased noises and tugging Nino closer. Ohno tips his chin up just slightly and Nino grins at the obvious request, placing a few soft kisses on his neck before-

“Manager!?”

Nino pulls back and sees that Ohno’s are wide, round, and pointed just up ahead. Slowly, casually, Nino slides off of him and rests an elbow in the sand.

Jun is standing only a few steps away from them, hands on his hips, looking a little too unsurprised for Nino’s comfort. Nino smiles innocently up at him anyway.

“We’re all thinking about going to karaoke,” Jun says, answering a question neither of them has asked.

“Great, awesome, good,” Ohno replies, rushing to his feet.

Nino follows, slowly, and enjoys Ohno’s nervous enthusiasm as they walk with Jun back to the strip.

Jun, for his part, gives no indication that anything is out of the ordinary until right before they step onto the sidewalk.

“Manager, excuse me,” he says, not quietly enough for Nino to miss. “But you have sand in your hair.”

 

* * *

 

Nino waits all weekend for the angry text messages to come, but Jun stays quiet. Nothing comes on Monday, either. Nino still plans on staying in his bunker, just to be safe.

Ohno calls early in the morning to tell Nino his computer is “broken.”

“Cute, but try me a little later, okay? I’m trying to avoid Jun.”

“Okay…” Ohno answers.

He sounds so disappointed that Nino relents. Thankfully, he makes it through the office without incident. He’s careful to close the door behind him before starting in on teasing Ohno for not being sick of him even after spending most of the weekend finding more secluded beach spots to roll around in.

“My computer really is broken, though,” Ohno tells him.

Nino watches and frowns as Ohno shakes his mouse to demonstrate. The screen is black.

“Is it on?” Nino asks as he walks around the desk.

“Yeah, see?" Ohno points to the power button. "That light came on. I heard that noise, too.”

“The startup noise.”

“Yeah, but the screen won't come on.”

“Alright, let me see.”

Ohno moves so that Nino can take his seat. Nino hits Ctrl-Alt-Delete and waits. Nothing happens.

“Has it been like this all morning?” Nino asks, tapping the spacebar aimlessly.

“Yeah. I didn’t notice at first because I was on a phone call…”

Slowly, horribly, the realization dawns on Nino.

“It’s not _on_ ,” he says, quietly, mostly to himself.

“What? It _is_ on. This light...that means it’s on, right?”

“The _monitor_ , Ohno.”

“Monitor?”

Nino turns on the monitor and looks up at Ohno, watching his reaction.

Ohno looks confused.

Genuinely confused.

“So..." Ohno starts, cautiously. "How is the ‘monitor’ different from the ‘computer’?”

Silently, Nino lays his head down on the desk.


End file.
